Chapter 51

ROSALIND

I don't know what kind of game Cesare thinks he's playing, but he wants me to sell out my colleagues.

He's changed the dressing on my bullet wound, given me food, water, and a blanket, followed by a shoulder massage. The Cesare I know would rant about me shooting him in the chest, accuse me of masterminding the attempt on his brother's life, and escalate the torture.

I once said he was evolving, but this is ridiculous.

His fingers feel like heaven across my touch-starved body, and I'm melting under his ministrations.

That's how I know at least one part of me is slipping into Stockholm syndrome. After resisting him for so long, I'm beginning to rely on this wretched bastard for external stimulation.

Cesare's presence is pulling me out of the prison of my mind.

He threads his fingers through my hair, infusing my scalp with explosions of pleasure. "Feeling better, pet?"

"Why are you doing this?" I ask.

"You need to be at your best when you're helping me with those Moirai bastards," he murmurs in my ear, sending sparks across my skin.

I shiver, trying to force back my body's response. This is just a facade. A switch up in his psychopathy to throw me off balance.

What he doesn't realize is that I'd already decided to turn against the Moirai until he brought Miranda back. She's now back at the Academy, where she's exposed to Gunther.

I can't even feel relief at no longer being the target of his sadism. He's gotten Miranda confiding in him, sharing her darkest secrets. All I can think is that he's going to corrupt my little girl. He'll manipulate Miranda's resentment toward me to gain her trust and then carry out my worst fear.

I sacrificed everything to protect my daughter. If I don't stop him, that psychopath will turn her into his plaything.

Miranda won't even see it coming, even though I warned her about older men and the process of grooming. It will be just like what happened to me.

Cesare will fill the emotional gap left by a neglectful mother. He'll be her confidante and her protector, the only person in the world she'll feel who truly sees her heart.

He'll shower her with love, recognition, and praise. He'll give her everything she's every yearned for—the things I've failed to provide. She'll be enchanted, just like I was with Matteo.

Before she knows it, Cesare will become her tormentor.

There's only one way to protect her: gather the information he wants and use that knowledge as leverage to earn our freedom. Freedom from him. Freedom from the Montesano family. Freedom from the Moirai.

"What do you think of me, pet?"

"You're a monster." The words slip from my lips.

"What else do you think about me?"

"You're dangerous."

My prey instincts scream at me to be silent, but my mouth won't stop forming words.

"You find me attractive?"

"If the devil took human form, he wouldn't be as handsome as you."

He grins.

"Do you like fucking me?"

"God, yes."

My gaze drops to the IV tube running from beneath the bandage around my hand and toward the liquid-filled bag hanging from a drip. I can't read the word on its label, but it sure as hell isn't saline.

Cesare brushes a strand of hair off my face. "You've finally noticed the scopolamine?"

A breath catches in my throat. I'm supposed to be immune to truth serums, but then nobody ever administered them to me after days of starvation, torture, sedation, and sensory deprivation.

"Yes," I rasp.

"Do you love me?" he whispers.

My heart pounds against my ribs, a maddening tattoo that echoes the intensity of my terror. Panic swells in my chest, stealing my air and erasing the edges of my sanity.

I grind my teeth, trying to fight through the urge to speak, but it's futile.

"No."

He leans closer, his sharp blue eyes piercing into mine and cutting through the last vestiges of my resistance. They burn with an intensity of fury that makes every fine hair stand on end.

He's acting like I gave him the wrong answer, because somewhere in his twisted psyche, he equates torturing a woman half to death with affection.

Finally, his eyes dim, releasing the pressure on my chest. "Will you help me?"

"Yes," I say, because that's the truth. I will give him information, but it will come at a price.

"Good girl. One more question."

Closing my eyes, I focus on the rhythm of my ragged breaths. With enough concentration, I might be able to beat the drug and work out how to negotiate Miranda's freedom.

"Look at me," he growls.

My eyes snap open. A nasty side effect of scopolamine is that it makes its victim incredibly susceptible to commands.

"Did you mastermind the attack on Roman?"

"No."

Shock registers across his features, and his eyes widen before the mask snaps back into place. Maybe it's finally sinking in that I'm just a pawn trapped in a much larger game.

"The other agents are immune to truth serums. How are they doing it?"

I grind my teeth, wanting to be resistant, wanting to bargain this information for my daughter. Past traumas creep to the forefront of my mind, splintering the edges of my sanity. I see Miranda with her head in a bear trap, her face wet with tears and blood staining the white of her shirt. I see Cesare standing over her, shirtless, and holding that antique pistol.

If I tell him what he wants, then Gunther will hunt Miranda. If I don't, then Miranda loses her innocence. Either way, my little girl is in danger, and I'm too enmeshed in chemical bondage to help her.

When a large hand lands on my shoulder, I don't freeze or even flinch. My body floods with pleasure. Pleasure at whatever diabolical concoction he's added to the truth serum.

"Go on, pet. Tell me what they do to evade my questions."

"If you visualize the lie as the truth before saying it, then your body won't react as if it's a lie."

He nods. "I like this cooperative version of you. Now, tell me how to destroy the Moirai," he says.

Gunther's threat over Miranda's life rings like an alarm bell. My mind scrambles to concoct a distraction, a lie, a piece of misinformation that might keep Miranda safe, but the truth claws at my throat.

Whichever way I go, Miranda will get hurt.

"It's impossible," I rasp.

His eyes narrow. "A woman as brilliant as you would have run through multiple scenarios. Tell me what we can do to take them down?"

Relief escapes my lungs in an outward breath. Cesare's question has just enough nuance for me to side-step. The Montesano family has enough resources to hurt the Moirai, but only an insider can destroy them from within.

I know a man. A powerful man. A man who wants to annihilate the firm. He has connections that span levels within the building even I can't penetrate, but he lacks the Montesano's vast resources. Putting them together would help Cesare and his brothers, but what about Miranda and me?

"It's complicated," I say through ragged breaths.

"Why?"

"The drugs. I can't think straight."

Nodding, he reaches to the IV attached to my arm and twists its valve, stopping the flow of serum. I slump back in the wheelchair under a wave of exhaustion.

"Take a break. You've done so well."

I close my eyes, relaxing under his touch as he encases me in bandages. Let him think he's winning this game of wits. No matter what he does to those operatives, they're weeks away from breaking.

He thinks I'm close to spilling my secrets, but I can tell he's becoming desperate. I cling onto the small win, letting the world drift away. The next time I wake up, I'll be stronger. And I'll negotiate a way out of this for me and my baby.